Both hands clasped around her wrists, he pauses to consider it. The heat prickling across his arms, his cock throbbing and begging to slip out of his pants and into her cunt. Something is taking over him, happening to him.

The woman wriggles around on the floor of her home, the home he broke into seeking her, desperately trying to break free of his hold on her.

This does nothing but reveal how tight her black leggings are against her body. He can see the shape of her delicious thighs, can trace the grooves of her little pussy lips through the thin fabric.

The sound cuts through the air: her white tank top tearing, spilling her gorgeous handful of tits out onto the polished wood floor. His mouth waters at the sight of her darkened nipples, instantaneously reacting to the cool winter air.

She’s screaming obscenities - rough guttural sobs that sound like a feral seal barking at him — but all he can think of is how good it feels to have her body writhing against him.

With his right hand holding her wrists down to the floor, he wrenches down her leggings, exposing her bare olive ass.

Fuck.

He’s never wanted anything more than her.

The pull to her is magnetic.

As her knees pathetically criss-cross on the floor, trying to grip some semblance of normalcy, he spots her bare cunt. Waxed, he thinks through the daze of his appetite. He catches the thought as his open palm comes down hard on her ass — and she twitches, dazed, stunned, on her own hardwood floor.

He’s stunned too.

He didn’t think, it was never in his mind to — what the actual fuck brain? That wasn’t part of the deal?!

But something urges him on.

The lull in the moment, the sight of her perfect face shaking off the blow.

He juts his knee out and pins her down to the floor.

Put a fork in her, she’s done, comes a thought. It makes him grin.

‘Stay fucking still.’

Her shirt tears apart.

Crumbles away like a broken plastic trash bag.

When he sets his hands on her leggings, she comes back alive. Writhes and wriggles and twists under him.

It only makes him hard.

‘What did I FUCKING say?’

He falls against her, pinning her to the floor. Fuck, there’s never been a moment in time where he’s been harder.

He loses his jeans, pressing into her arching back.

‘I just had to see for myself you know. See how…’

He glides his fingers along her slit showing through her ass.

His stomach knots at the revelation. His fingers draw back coated in her.

She’s —

‘You’re fucking soaked. Oh you good little whore, your body keeps you honest. This is who you are.’

An idea comes.

‘Let me look at you.’

He scoops a hand under her waist.

She dead weights.

Like flipping over a pup to do its nails.

‘You really are a…’

The words escape him.

A worm.

A pup.

Wriggling ‘neath him.

Trying to win one over him.

He wrestles her on her back though.

Elbows and legs and feet clunking against the polished wooden floor.

His cheeks burns wet and hot.

She spat at him.

Between spitting out feral, vulgar words. He’s halfway to her in a daze of rage when her eyes freeze him still.

Dark eyes dotted with tears and the smudgy remnants of dark eyeshadow inking down her cheeks. She looks exhausted.

Vulnerable.

Is that a glimmer of excitement?

Does she know?

Has she guessed he came here to breed her?

To be continued…